CHAPTER XI
THE COURAGE OF A COWARD
Woodbridge was a profusion of bunting and streamers on Independence Day.Almost every building, from the meanest little stores on Stone Street tothe big business blocks on Willow and State Streets, was gay with flagsand emblems. The thoroughfares were thronged with people, too. Summerfolk from the cities, mingled with the easily distinguished farmers whohad come to town for the celebration, and these with the residents madethe population of the town almost double its normal size.
Soon after the dinner hour the crowd all began to move in one direction,for everybody was headed for the exhibition grounds.
Firemen's Field was an ideal place for the celebration. It was in abroad unfenced stretch of valley bottom on the outskirts of town and agrandstand had been erected there for the Firemen's Tournament in thespring, so well remembered by the "smoke-eaters" of Quarry Troop. A deepwoods stretched along the west side of the field and Otter Creek formedthe southern boundary, while the highway to St. Cloud ran across itsnorthern extreme. There were several acres of broad green lawn in frontof the grandstand, and the only obstructions in the whole area were thetall and short poles the scouts had erected. These, however, had beenplaced so as not to interfere with the dancing and other events scheduledfor the day.
The grandstand was filled to capacity long before the hour set for thebeginning of the ceremonies, and by the time the Mayor and various otherofficials had entered their special reviewing stand hundreds of peoplewere massed in a semicircle about the field.
To one side of the entrance was a group of gay colored tents or marquees,about which were crowded hundreds of tiny tots, all arrayed in the gaudycarnival dress. Some were ladies of the French courts, some were garbedin Colonial costumes and some were masquerading as bears or as wolves.One group was wearing the wooden shoes and frocks of Holland, anothergroup was costumed as Russian peasants and still others were dressed torepresent German, Swedish, Danish and Irish folk. The Campfire Girlswere there, too, in a special little marquee by themselves, and to theright of their location was the Quarry Troop, every lad in full uniform,and looking very important.
"Corking crowd, eh, Bruce?" said Nipper Knapp, who stood watching thebank of faces in the grandstand.
"You bet it is. Say, we'll have to do our finest. Not a hitch to-day,fellows," said Bruce.
"Right-o," asserted half a dozen members of the troop enthusiastically.
Then every one became silent, for the director of the carnival had takenthe center of the field. A moment he stood there and surveyed hisperformers, then he gave the signal for the music, and presently thegrand march was under way.
Hundreds of youngsters ranging from tiny tots who were to take part in aMother Goose scene, to the stalwart scouts themselves, formed in line andparaded around the field, passing in front of the stands.
A very impressive scene representing the signing of the Declaration ofIndependence was the first number on the program. In this, severalacademy boys took the parts of John Hancock, John Adams and JohnDickinson, and the members of the First Congress.
Immediately following came the folk dances, in which scores of prettygirls in costumes executed the national dances of the various foreigncountries. These little maids tripped lightly to the fantastic dancemusic of the people of the old world for fully twenty minutes and as thelast group began the final steps of a pretty Scotch fantasy Bruce stoodup and mustered the scouts in line.
"We're next, fellows. Now do your finest. Are the tents ready and therest of the equipment in order? How's 'Old Nanc'?" he called.
But it was needless to ask the question, for the lads had been ready forfully fifteen minutes.
"How about the flag?" asked Bruce, as the little girls danced their wayoff the field and the band changed to a martial air.
"All safe," said Romper, who had been appointed custodian of the preciousbunting.
"Fine!" said the leader of the Owl patrol.
Bugler Benson sounded the call, "Forward, scouts," and the brown-cladcolumn started toward the tall pole near the center of the field, whereMr. Ford, in Scoutmaster's uniform, stood waiting. They marched in scoutorder with "Old Nanc," laden with the wireless equipment trundling slowlybehind them.
For a moment the lads stood in line in front of the grandstand andsaluted, then at a word from Mr. Ford they broke ranks, and presently ascout camp was growing before the surprised spectators' eyes. Tents wereerected in a jiffy, scouts were scuttling here and there with campequipment, cooking utensils and firewood. Some were mixing dough, somefrying bacon, some cutting wood and some carrying pails of water. Withinten minutes a model scout camp had appeared in the center of Firemen'sField.
But presently the spectators discovered that they were doing somethingeven more interesting than building camp. A half dozen scouts under thedirection of Bruce were unloading queer looking sections of electricalapparatus from the troop's home-made automobile.
While this was being done, Bud Weir strapped on his climbing spurs andbegan to climb the tall pole, carrying the end of a good strong manilahalyard. This he wove through the pulley at the top and soon the scoutswere hoisting one end of the wireless aerials up to him. This wasquickly adjusted, as was the machinery on the ground, and in a fewminutes the wireless station had been assembled and Bruce was at the key,flashing crackling messages into the air.
Applause came from the grandstand, but before the clapping died away, thelads lined up in front of the taller of the two poles again and Romperproduced a roll of shining red silk from one of the tents. With thisunder his arm he took his place before the flagpole and waited, one handupon the new halyard, which still remained in the pulley. At this signMr. Ford stood out and, removing his campaign hat, faced the spectatorsand the reviewing stand.
"Honored Mayor, ladies and gentlemen," he said, "the boys of Quarry TroopNo. 1 have been granted the privilege by the Town Council to presentWoodbridge with a city flag. It is our--"
The Assistant Scoutmaster paused here. In the crowd before him he sawscores of frightened faces. He saw men pointing and heard women cry outin terror. He saw children cower and scamper for the protection of thegrandstand.
Instantly all turned and looked across the field toward the strip ofwoods that bordered it, and what they saw paralyzed them with horror.
There on the edge of the wood that bordered the west of the field,shaking his massive head menacingly and pawing the ground, stood Ponto,the great black and white bull of the Lyman stock farm. The most savageanimal in Woodbridge had broken through his barrier and, attracted by theapplause of the people, had wandered through the woods to Firemen'sField. And the wrath that kindled in his wicked eyes as he stood andwatched the assemblage made even the bravest scout shudder. For a momentthe lads stood as if robbed of their presence of mind by the unfamiliaremergency. But the next instant they were stirred to action by the rushof some one running and a cry:
"Quick, scouts, take care of the children. Get these year kiddies out o'danger. I'll 'tend to the bull."
This was from a stocky lad with legs slightly bowed, who pushed throughthe group of boys and laid hold of the halyard of the flagpole. In aninstant he had whipped out his jack-knife and severed the rope. Then hebegan to haul it out of the pulley overhead, meanwhile shouting for thescouts to quiet the already panic-stricken crowd and hurry the childrenout of danger.
Bruce gave one look at the boy from Arizona and in his eyes saw somethingthat told him he was master of the situation. Then he turned to thescouts.
"He can handle the bull, boys," he cried; "come, work fast, get thechildren back."
And the next instant the scouts, armed with their staffs, began to herdthe tiny tots behind the grandstand, leaving Dick Austin alone in thecenter of the field.
The lad from Arizona was working frantically. With his knife he cut theflag from the rope and with the line thus freed began to weave a bowlineknot into one end. This he made to serve as the ring
for a lariat, andpresently he had a fifteen-foot loop spread out before him on the ground.Then with his eyes on the enraged bull he coiled the rest of the ropeinto his left hand. And all the time he worked his plucky face wore agrim smile.
As for the bull, he stood there grunting and pawing the sod furiously,his fiery eyes fastened on the lone figure.
But it was not in Dick Austin's make-up to flee from a bull. Instead, heshouted:
"Come on, you old son-of-a-gun," and he actually kicked the red silk flaginto the air to tantalize the animal. This was too much for the beast.When he saw the red flag flaunted at him by this puny human he let out abellow and charged.
Dick was on his toes in an instant. With a twist of his hand he startedthe loop circling about his head, while his eyes were fastened on theenraged animal charging toward him with lowered head.
Nearer he came! Dick could see the red in his distended nostrils; hecould see the cords and arteries in his massive neck and shouldersstanding out under his velvety skin. He could feel the ground trembleunder the pounding of his heavy feet. The next instant those short,ugly, black tipped horns might be buried into his flesh and he would betossed into the air. And if he dropped limp and helpless he would bestamped to death. The beast was twenty feet away now. His head droppedlower for the final plunge. He lunged his great body forward.
But the boy was not there! Like a panther, Dick had leaped behind theflag-pole, but not until he had hurled the whistling loop straight at thecharging animal's feet. Then with a quick turn he snubbed the line aboutthe pole.
The next instant the great beast's legs were jerked out from under himand with a roar of rage he turned a complete somersault and crashed to theground, every bit of his wrath jarred out of him by the stunning impact.
In a twinkle Dick came from behind the pole and with the lariat still inhis hands rushed toward the prostrate animal. Two dexterous twists wereall he made and the hind legs of the bull were lashed as fast as thefront ones and savage Ponto was helpless.
After the members of the Quarry Troop had viewed the municipal fireworksin front of Town Hall that night they gathered at headquarters to discussthe day's events before going home. But there was only one event to bediscussed, and that was on the lips of every individual in town.
"By Jove, I called him a coward," said Bud Weir. "But if there's afellow among us who has as much sand as he had--I--I---well, by cracky,there isn't any."
"Well," said Bruce thoughtfully. "It's this way--ah--er--I mean-- Aw,shucks, I can't express it the way I want to, but he surely didn't shirkthe duty for which he was prepared. He told me this morning thatlassoing cattle (roping he calls it) and riding horses is part of a day'swork where he comes from."
"I don't care if he is skittish about machinery," said Romper Ryanemphatically, "I'm going to see that Dick Austin becomes a scout beforehe leaves Woodbridge; he's the kind of a chap we need."